The Stag and The Doe
by SesshyLover-cha
Summary: Harry can't quite place who the Patronus that plagues his dreams belongs to. Snape intervenes. SNARRY One-Shot turned chapter story?  Humor? If it's there, it's dry. Like a DESERT.


**Disclaimer:** I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter, which the graceful Goddess J.K. Rowling has blessed us with.

**Rating: **T+

**Summary:** Harry can't quite place who the Patronus that plagues his dreams belongs to. Snape intervenes. SNARRY One-Shot turned chapter story?

**A/N: **Well I've wanted to write some Snarry for a while. Honestly, I've tried to. But the idea would never come to me, or let me see them. If they did, they didn't make much sense and were henceforth ignored. But suddenly, while I re-read DH for the tenth time, a thought hit me. Patronuses! I could write something about their Patronuses! I figured it made enough sense. A Stag and a Doe.

Well, enough of my silly ramblings. Go on and read it.

The Stag was a young, foolish creature, who hadn't even earned his horns yet, being introduced into a new world filled with creatures he'd never seen before. Otters, dogs, boars, foxes- there were so many new animals to converse and make friendships with! But there was one creature who the Stag didn't know how to describe. It was a Doe, beautifully silver in color with eyes so large and deep you could get lost in them, who captured his utmost attentions and desires. But when the young Stag tried to become acquainted with the Doe, the small being merely shrugged him off like he was nothing more than a Dung Beetle.

This had made the Stag decidedly angry- why was this beautiful thing being so distant and rude?

So time and time again, the Stag would try to converse with the Doe. Alas, he was making no progress, but more of a regressing combative rivalry. As another year went by, the Stag began to sprout his horns, and, proudly, he showed them off to the Doe. But once more, the Doe turned a cold shoulder on him and stalked off.

He confronted his friends, the Otter and the Terrier, about his problems with the Doe.

"That Doe is nothing to be troubled with," the Otter said, splashing lightly in a pond. "Don't talk to no one, greasy creature."

"Real anti-social, that Doe." The Terrier barked, joining the Otter in the pond. "I wouldn't bother with something so cold."

Deciding that his friends were wrong, he tried to impress the Doe again. It wasn't until five years after when he had sprouted his antlers fully that the Doe paid him any mind. And it wasn't even very much, mind you. The Doe would make eye contact; maybe give him a nod as a greeting. But the Stag didn't care, because that was progress. And the Stag became very proud and courageous again, and tried to impress the Doe one last time before finally giving up, using any last bit of his Gryffindor courage.

So as he told his friends that he was going swimming in the lake, the Otter tried to talk him out of it.

"Oh, the Doe's not worth it! You'll freeze to death!"

"Yeah, mate." The Terrier piped in. "It's the bloody middle of winter! What will this accomplish?"

But the Stag didn't listen to his friends, and went to go and retrieve the Doe, who was currently engorging in a book of potions. He asked the Doe as politely and as respectfully as he could manage if the Doe would allow the Stag to show it something. While the Doe said nothing, it got up from it comfortable spot on the Forbidden Forest's floor to follow the Stag to where the Lake was. Now, as the Stag prepared to dive bravely into the half frozen lake, a small chuckle came from behind him. Turning a curious eye toward the Doe, he questioned what the Doe found to be so funny.

"You fool," the Doe said, and he was graced with hearing the surprisingly gruff voice of the creature, "why must you keep trying to impress when you need not?"

The Stag was at a loss for words, and turned away from the lake. Cautiously, as to not make the Stag's emotions worn on the antler, the Stag asked something that had been meant when the Stag decided that the Doe was for him. "Do you like me?"

The Doe looked taken aback; quickly, the Stag put up a Gryffindor front and pretended like the Slytherin hadn't just unintentionally ripped his heart out.

"Potter… how much longer are you going to drift off into oblivion while in my class?"

Harry had, unfortunately, drifted off during double potions. He jumped at the sound of his Professor's voice- it always seemed to make him uneasy when the older wizard spoke. Something about that silkily gruff voice reminded him of something, but the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't quite place where the voice had popped up without the snarky Potions Master present. While he gathered his thoughts quickly and looked up at Professor Snape, Harry couldn't believe the way his teacher's piercing glare could make him feel so uncomfortable.

"Well, Potter?" the slimy git drawled, placing his hands firmly on the boy's desk. Leaning in closer to the child, Harry could almost feel Snape's breath on his face. "Care to enlighten the class of your petty daydreams?"

"No sir," the boy was quick to say. Snape sneered.

"Of course not. Now get back to brewing your Draught. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry only watched him as he turned swiftly and stalked over to where the Slytherins were working not-too excitedly on their potions. Ron made a sort of growling noise next to him that reminded Harry faintly of his Patronus.

"Slimy old git. How dare he take point just 'cause you were drifting!" the Weasly whisper-shouted, stirring the contents of his cauldron slowly. "He obviously don't take your bloody obvious stress into account."

Hermione nodded silently next to them. "Just ignore it. It can't really be helped, seeing as he's not monitoring him." The girl smiled as her potion turned the correct shade of blue. "It's not like he's inside your head every night."

"Yeah," Harry grimly agreed. He didn't even bother with his potion, which had turned a sickening shade of yellow. Snape had begun walking around once more, checking the contents of each student's cauldrons before either giving them a sneer, in the case of Gryffindors, or a small smirk and a pat on the shoulder, in the case of the Slytherins.

But as the old bat passed by Harry's desk, he stopped, a disgusted grimace gracing his features. Nothing short of a snarl, as it seemed.

"What is this monstrosity, Potter?"

Harry turned back to his cauldron, of which its contents had turned pink and was bubbling pleasantly. He didn't see anything wrong with it. Although, he might've made the wrong potion, or mixed up his ingredients incorrectly. As the Boy-Who-Lived glanced up at the chalkboard to see they were making the Draught of Living Death, Harry almost wanted to laugh. He had instead brewed a love potion, as it seemed.

Snape had since ignored his lack of response and stirred his cauldron's contents slightly; a warming and refreshing scent filled the air, causing any student who hadn't previously been watching turn towards the two. "Potter, it appears you have brewed a love potion instead of the Draught I assigned. Detention tonight at eight, Potter. Don't disappoint me." And with that, Snape turned around, the bell rang, and everyone cleared up.

Harry had slipped some of the potion into a nearby vial, and then vanished the rest of it. As he gathered his things to leave, he glanced at Snape, who was currently hunched over his desk, grading their essays. The boy turned to his friends, who were trying to usher him out of the door.

**A/N:** Tell me how I did, will you? I always love a good review and constructive criticism. Do you think this should be multi-chaptered, as I do? Read, review, rinse and repeat.


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